


The Dread Pirate Roberts

by loveanddeathandartandtaxes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, The Princess Bride References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6236569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveanddeathandartandtaxes/pseuds/loveanddeathandartandtaxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We first need to know if this new Moriarty is as… <i>zealous</i> as the last.”<br/>“I bet your boyfriend wasn’t secretly a lying assassin who tried to kill your best friend, though,” I can’t resist grumbling. Ever the drama queen, he throws his hands in the air and sighs loudly.<br/>“Can we please - just - focus, John?”<br/>Putting my hand to my face, I shake my head.<br/>“I’m sorry, I just thought having boyfriends wasn’t a thing you <i>did</i>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dread Pirate Roberts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinklock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinklock/gifts).



> alternate title: My Name Is John Watson. You Shot My Detective. Prepare To Die.

“Moriarty is dead, no question. But more importantly,” he pauses and looks off, clearly planning. “I know _exactly_ what he’s going to do next.”

I turn to Mary. She’s as confused as me – or she’s at least pretending to be. My gaze flickers back to him.

“I’ll see you at home, yeah?” I ask. She says something in reply, but I’m already catching up with Sherlock, getting into the car before he can leave.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock frowns at me, and I know I’ve once again done something other than what he had anticipated.

“You should be with Mary. She’ll be having the baby soon.”

“Probably not for another week, and it’s not like she involved me with much of the rest of the pregnancy.” Mycroft had copies of a few ultrasounds sent to me at Baker St while Sherlock was recovering from the bullet wound. They are the only reason I know she’s carrying a girl. “You’ll be coming down soon, so you can tell me what’s going on while I make sure you’re alright.”

He nods, his face tight, and instructs the driver to take us to Baker St. I wait in silence.

“You made me watch that movie, once.” It’s been at least ten minutes, and I snort.

“Probably. Which one.”

“Iocane powder.”                                 

“Princess Bride? What about it?”

“Moriarty isn’t a _person_ ,” he insists. “Moriarty is a… a title, a job, a position that can be passed on from master to student.”

“Like the Dread Pirate Roberts,” I realise.

“Yes, and the man we knew as Jim Moriarty is dead. But when I was – _away_ – I thought his network too extensive, even for him. We did a little research and there was no-one by that name at the same school as Carl Powers, or even of the same generation in his area. His successor seems to have been picking up some of the pieces. The new Moriarty is about to introduce themselves. That’s what the video was telling us – and telling anyone in the market for a consulting criminal, I suppose.”

I nod, straighten my collar.

“So what do we do?”

Sherlock glances sidelong at me.

“ _We_ don’t do anything. _I_ find out how to take the new Moriarty down. _You_ go be with your family, John. You’ll have a family, now.” He looks at me properly, now. He knows, somehow, about what I lived with before Harry came out and I enlisted.

“I _have_ a family, you cock. Mrs Hudson - and you.  I had a family as soon as I moved in to Baker St.”

This seems to get his attention. “But-”

“No. I did what you wanted, I moved back in with her after Christmas. But, look-” I gesture to myself. “It’s shit; surely you can tell that it’s just really… shit.”

His hand goes to his mouth. “John, all relationships have stressors, and all relationships take effort to resolve. I’m sure if you just-”

“Oh, fuck off with the marriage counsellor stuff, Sherlock. Having a fake relationship with Janine for a month does not make you an expert.”

“I’ve had - I had a boyfriend,” he bristles. I gape at him; he’s never admitted that sort of thing so clearly. It’s immediately obvious he had not planned on saying that out loud, and I rush to soothe him.

“Yeah?” I prompt, a hand on his arm.

“At university,” is all I get, and he turns to look out the window. I do the same, and see that we’re nearly home. When the car pulls over I bundle him inside and settle in to ease his sobering up.

 

* * *

 

I don’t check my phone. 221B is my whole universe until Sherlock is finally himself again, and excuses himself to freshen up.

The kettle boils right as I hear the shower shut off. His cup of tea stays on the table, and I take my own and sit in my chair.

“Are you still insisting on joining me, hunting the new Moriarty?” He asks as he sits opposite me.

“Of course. I’m not letting you go without me.”

“What about Mary?”

I roll my eyes, sit my tea down.

“Leave it, Sherlock, I don’t think even you can fix this one. Anyway, one boyfriend does not a relationship expert make.”

He glares at me, and I wonder if I was not meant to acknowledge anything that happened while he was high.

“Okay,” he begins slowly, “but we first need to know if this new Moriarty is as… _zealous_ as the last.”

“I bet your boyfriend wasn’t secretly a lying assassin who tried to kill your best friend, though,” I can’t resist grumbling. Ever the drama queen, he throws his hands in the air and sighs loudly.

“Can we please - just - focus, John?”

Putting my hand to my face, I shake my head.

“I’m sorry, I just thought having boyfriends wasn’t a thing you _did_.”

“Well, it wasn’t in the _plan_ ,” he huffs. “But - but I fell in love without meaning to. And then suddenly nothing mattered but him. Making him happy, keeping him safe. I was always too cowardly to reveal the-” he takes a heaving breath, “-the true depth of my feelings, but you keep me right, John Watson.”

Understanding what he has said happens gradually. The air between us is still but for our breathing. My hands tingle as they grip the chair, and I can feel my heart beat.

“This is.” I have to stop. I clear my throat, swallow. I feel warm all over. A little faint. “I don’t understand.”

Sherlock’s face is a masterpiece of expression and I realise immediately I have said the wrong thing when he looks hurt and then blank.

“Oh, for god’s sake John, never mind, we need to get back to-”

“No!” His mouth snaps shut and I try to smile at him. It wavers. “No, I understand _that_ . You love me. That’s good, that’s _brilliant_ , I love you too, and we’ll get back to that. I don’t - I don’t understand why you never _said_.”

He just - stops, and I’m reminded of the day I asked him to be my best man, and kick myself again for not asking him to be much more that day. For not asking earlier than that, even. Pushing myself out of my chair puts me in front of him. “I’m sorry.” The words erupt from my mouth, and I cannot stop them. “That’s not fair, I never said either, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m an idiot. Stand - please stand up? I need to kiss you.”

The eagerness with which he jumps up is endearing. I put my hands on his arms.

“You’re shaking,” I realise. Sherlock nods, mute.

“Can I kiss you?” He starts nodding again before I can finish speaking. My fingers trace over his face, and he leans into my touch. Holding the back of his neck, I stretch up and press my lips to his.

It’s not hard to deduce he’s out of practice. But his lips are soft, and the hand at my back is firm. I smear the edges of our kiss past the curve of his lip to the line of his jaw, the plane of his cheek.

"John," he says, but I know what he means. I know what he has always meant. Whenever he says my name, he means "I love you”.

“Yeah,” I murmur back at him. “Let’s go get this bastard.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Mary is the new Moriarty and the baby is a balloon of guns and money.
> 
>  
> 
> [(on tumblr)](http://loveanddeathandartandtaxes.tumblr.com/post/140965902470/the-dread-pirate-roberts)


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